Tag Archives: memories

I don’t think of myself as much of a TV watcher, but I’ve noticed I’ve been posting about TV shows lately. Go figure. I do sometimes have the TV on, especially if it’s a weekend my son’s off spending the weekend with his dad. In a weird way, the white noise keeps me company. So in this white noise fog, I’ve made an interesting discovery. Time machines do exist!!!

Tonight I was doing some work after my son went to bed, and I heard the familiar refrains of that popular sitcom “Cheers.”

I was suddenly transported back to the 90s when I was married. I remembered a former co-worker I haven’t thought of in years, who was a huge Cheers fan. She even went to Boston to visit the place that inspired the series. I had a mini trip down memory lane.

As interesting as that was, it’s nothing compared to the feeling I get when I hear the theme song of “Too Close for Comfort.”

Hearing the theme song and watching an episode really takes me waaaaaayyyy back. For some reason it also makes me think of a cousin who lived down the road from us for a few years. We must’ve watched the show together at times. Otherwise, why does the show make me think of her? It’s more than just thinking of people, though, and reminiscing. I get a visceral feeling, almost like I’ve stepped back to a different time. It’s more tangible than just thinking back. It has to be the music, the sounds, and the way it imprints a feeling or sensation in some remote wrinkle of our brains. It’s an amazing feeling. Like an addict chasing a high, I’ve found myself flipping to the channels that play the old reruns, looking for that window to the past. Time machines do exist.

Has it really been over two months since my last post??? I know it’s corny, but it’s oh so true: time flies. Next week it’ll be February. Good Lord!

I guess I got swept up in the holidays and end of year work busy-ness. (More like work craziness, but that’s another post!) Even though the holidays can be hectic, I’m finding that I love Christmas more and more. That may seem like a strange thing to say, but when I look back at how stressful the holidays were when I was married, I’ve come a long way. It used to be all about making sure we made the rounds, my husband was cranky because he didn’t like us spending money, he didn’t know what he wanted to buy people, and ideas I would suggest would often get shot down. Even my own wish list would get shot down, and I’m not talking extravagant items either. Wow. I don’t miss those days.

Now I’m still doing the holiday shuffle, making sure we visit who we need to, but for whatever reason I find more joy in the season. I love the festivities. Love to decorate. Love to shop. Not that I’m a marathon shopper, at all. If I pick up a gift or two at a time, I’m doing good. I guess maybe I’ve learned to pace myself. I know what my patience level is and I work with it. And for the first time, in probably my whole adult life, I was sad to take down the Christmas tree.

Life is a funny/amazing/complex/convoluted/wonderful thing. A gal I work with has gone on maternity leave and could very well at this very moment be laboring to deliver her baby girl. I told her the other day that I wasn’t sure what it had been like for her, but it seems like her pregnancy has flown by. And now baby girl is on her way. Such exciting news and I’m so happy for her. This is the 2nd child for her and her husband. They have a toddler also, so once her 12 weeks maternity leave is up, she’ll be returning to work just two days a week. I have to admit a slight pang of jealousy. Not about the two day a week work week, but yes that would be lovely too, but I remember those days at home with my son. Such fond memories. I’m so thankful to have my son, but I always thought I would have more children. It hasn’t worked out that way, and there are moments when I grieve for what could have been.

Then reality smacks me in the face with a reminder to be grateful for all I have. I work for an insurance company and today one of the groups I handle notified us of the sudden, unexpected death of an employee who wasn’t even 40 years old. I started gathering the necessary paperwork for her family to file a claim on her life insurance, and the enrollment form she had signed was dated exactly one year before the day she died. To the day. It gave me chills.

We have no guarantees. Babies are born, people die. That’s every day’s business. When we’re born a few people rejoice; when we die a few people grieve, but in either scenario the world keeps moving. I guess the big decision is, How do you choose to fill the in between?

I’m back home now. We traveled far. We saw lots of scenery. It was a grand adventure. And I would share it with you in all its photographic glory, except I left my camera in Wyoming. Yes, I set it down while watching a film on historic Fort Laramie and walked right off without it. I didn’t know it was missing until somewhere in Nebraska. (Chimney Rock, specifically.) I tried not to panic, but we were on the homestretch of our trip. Days of photos are on that camera, and these aren’t poses you can just recreate. If they’re gone, they’re gone. I tried calling the Fort, but was having trouble getting through. Western Nebraska and my cell phone service weren’t mixing well. I finally did get through, but by then they were closed. I had a restless night. I hoped that someone hadn’t decided they were the proud new owners of a digital camera. Not that it’s special or really nice or anything exceptional. But it held my memories of the trip thus far.

The next morning I groggily called the Fort again. I was barely awake, sounded like a trucker who smokes two packs a day and hadn’t had her morning coffee, but I had to know if someone had been kind enough to turn in my camera. Had I really left it at the Fort? Or did I absent-mindedly toss it in the trash when I’d cleaned up after we had our picnic lunch? Or did I leave it in the bathroom at the Bachelor Soldiers Barracks? Where was it? Would I get it back? While we were at Yellowstone, I overheard my mother say to my father, “This might be our last time to be here” and those words stuck with me and haunted me as I wondered if I would have any photographic memories of this trip at all!

I reached a real person that morning, who had me describe my camera, said it had been found and they would mail it to me. Such relief!! I wanted to cry. That was a few days ago. My camera hasn’t arrived yet, and I began to wonder if I dreamed the phone call, so this afternoon I called the fort again. They assured me my camera was mailed and should be arriving soon.

You may be wondering why we didn’t turn around and go back to get it, but we were several hours away and by the time we would’ve gotten there, they would’ve been closed. Besides, who knew if it would even be there? We just didn’t have that much time in our “budget” to backtrack that far. I decided calling would be the most practical answer.

So now we’re back and I’ve been back at work two days. They rearranged sections of the office while I was gone and now I have a nice corner cubicle with windows in front and behind/beside me. I should be excited. Instead, I’ve got the post-vacation blues. I’ve come to fully realize how much I dislike my job. How mind-numbing and pointless it is. Being there all day has me feeling like a caged animal. But is it really my job? Or is this merely a result of me being tired and road-worn and, as a result, less patient? All I know is I don’t like feeling this way, and as trying as it could be at times traveling with family members who are used to a variety of schedules, I would take that any day over my day in the cube.

Anyway, photos and stories to follow as soon as I get my camera back. I hope it’s soon!

Must have a omputer or at the very least a typewriter. Are you ready for this? Go to your computer or typewriter, then hold down the shift key and press the 4 key four times. There ya go: $$$$.

It’s corny, I know, but sometimes corny makes me laugh. I can’t take credit for it; I read it in one of those little freebie newspapers at my local sandwich shop while I was taking lunch Friday. It was an uneventful lunch, but it really got me thinking. An old man was sitting behind me, and he asked an elderly lady a couple of tables away what today’s date was. “The 6th, I think,” she said and she began to dig in her purse. “I’ll get my calendar. It’s here somewhere.” “It’s the 7th,” I chimed in. “May 7th.” I started to add, Today’s the 7th and Sunday’s the 9th — Mother’s Day, but I didn’t. What if their mothers were long since gone? That’s silly though. It’s not like they don’t talk about or think about their mothers.

A little later when this same old man was walking by my table, I noticed his shaking hands. He stopped beside me and complimented my ring. It’s nothing fancy; just something I ordered from Overstock. He said he used to be a jeweler, and explained that he wasn’t flirting. I laughed. Old people amuse me.

When I was young, I used to wonder what my brothers and I would be like when we grew up. Now I look at old people and wonder what they were like when they were younger. I thought about this old man and wondered if he played baseball or if he liked school. Was he talkative and social when he was a boy or was he quiet? Did he remember learning to ride a bike? Or swim? Did he make mother’s day cards for his mother? Does he ever feel like time has gone by way too fast? I can remember my grandfather in his 90s saying life was short and, at the time, that puzzled me. He’d had a long life, how could it be too short?? But now I know time flies by, and we grow up fast, but we’re excited to get there, to be the grown up so we can make our own decisions, and then our kids grow up fast and maybe we want them to and maybe we don’t, but then we miss the baby/toddler/kiddo/teen that they were. Now I’ve learned how the dates and days can all slide together and we can lose track, but don’t forget to tell your mother or step-mother or aunt and grandma, Happy Mother’s Day! They just might be thinking about and missing their own mother or mother-figure in their lives, but thank goodness they have you.